Having Time
by BandGeek58407
Summary: While home alone one rainy day, Abigail gets an unexpected visit from Agent Sadusky. Oneshot, AbiSadusky.


**Hello! (Note: I am having issues with What Lies Buried, so if there are any impatient peoples out there, I'm working as best and as fast as I can.) Anyways…I think it's time for a completely AbigailSadusky fic. Hail to the new pairing!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours (unless you're Disney). Ain't it sad? **

**_Having Time_**

It was quite the dreary day—clouds billowed like graying cotton balls over the damp sky and the occasional patter of rain fell upon the old windows of the room where Abigail sat. Although it was only eleven in the morning, anybody could have easily thought that it was six or seven at night. Flicking through the channels absently, Abigail mused about the current situation their odd group found themselves in; not that it was really that _odd_, per se…the more accurate word would be "ironic." After all the time, adventure, and turmoil the three of them had gone through, they found themselves almost at square one. She and Ben had broken up—again—while she and Riley were still on hostile yet amicable terms; Ben and Riley were still friends-slash-coworkers as always. The only difference between square one and this square, fondly named square one-point-five, was that she and Ben didn't necessarily hate each other. They were friends—a far cry from the yelling and cursing in that red van that fateful night.

Boredom. Abigail had never handled it well, and the slim pickings on the what, five hundred channels Riley installed were not really helping all that much, and neither was the fact that she was alone in the giant mansion. _If I wasn't alone, then I could discuss history with Ben, or irritate Riley, or something amusing of the sort…_But no—they had left to search through the Library of Congress for something or other. Normally, Ben went alone; she couldn't fathom why Riley just _had_ to accompany him, nor did she know just what they were looking for. Normally, Ben would have gone on a huge, excited rant about the research beforehand. Hm. Odd.

She was so lost in thought that she let out a small cry when the phone rang and took a few rings to calm herself down. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Miss Chase," said Sadusky's deep voice on the other end. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, no…actually, I was rather bored. How have you been?"

"Fine, fine…" Thankful that he couldn't see her through the phone (or could he, being the sneaky FBI man that he is?), she frowned slightly at the sound of his obvious preoccupation. "I, for once, am not calling about work. Are you busy?"

She hesitated before answering. _Didn't I just say I was bored?_ "Ah…no. No I am not…are you?" Her frown becoming more pronounced, she realized that this conversation was taking a turn for the awkward.

"Me neither." He paused. "You wouldn't mind if I…uh, popped by, would you? Or…if you'd rather not—"

"No, it's fine!" In all her years of dealing with Sadusky, this is the first time she had ever heard him trip over himself while talking; it made no sense to her mind that was constantly being more fogged by the stark atmosphere outdoors. While she considered this, she realized the line had gone dead. "Mm…hello? Sadusky?"

"Hi…uh, the door was unlocked." And suddenly he was standing in the nearby foyer.

"That was fast," she noted, standing. "Does the FBI have secret tunnels and teleportation devices?"

"More like…I just happened to be in the neighborhood." He nodded a bit in the awkwardness they both sensed, each of them taking in their surroundings. While his dark eyes surveyed the historically-themed interior decoration with supposed interest, Abigail too went to surveying. But seeing as she lived in the house, her attention was directed at the agent.

Even before she had actually taken a good look at him, she had noticed something was different—he was not dressed in his usual crisp suit, striped Oxford, and tie. Instead, he donned casual "civilian" wear: a faded pair of jeans, old boots, and a blue polo. The contrast was striking.

"What?" he chuckled after a minute or so. "You don't think that I wear my business suit to bed, do you?"

"E-excuse me?" She was sure she'd heard him wrong.

"Ah…" he said quickly, biting his lip slightly. "What I meant was do you really think I wear that suit all the time?"

"No, no…" _Congratulations Sadusky on not being picky with your word choice. Be glad Riley wasn't here._ "I've just never seen you in anything else but that. Um…I saw the History Channel was doing a documentary on the National Archives building. It might be fun to criticize it."

"It might." They slowly made their way back to the living room and plopped down beside each other on the small sofa. The chatter of the documentary's narrator was still not enough to drown out the silence between them, amazingly enough, though occasionally one of them would murmur something that the show had left out, the other nodding in agreement. And most unfortunately for the both of them, they had caught it at the tail end and only had fifteen minutes worth to watch.

And then it was "return of the awkwardness."

"So," Abigail said conversationally. "How's…Mrs. Sadusky?"

"Who?" To her surprise, he looked genuinely confused.

"You're…wife?"

"I-I'm not married," he muttered. "You don't really have much time for anything when you're as high up in the Bureau as I am. No time to breathe, no time for things that you enjoy…just loads and loads of time to think. And not relaxed thinking either—stressful thinking, it's all stress." He sighed, looking down at his clasped hands. Never once had it occurred to Abigail that he might not truly enjoy his job. It had always seemed to be the perfect fit for him, key word being "seemed."

"_So,_ Sadusky—"

"Call me Peter."

"Can I be honest?" she said with a smile as she turned her head in his direction, his eyes ablaze with that certain FBI-ish curiosity that she found compelling. "You don't look like a Peter."

"I…don't?"

"No…it's too…too…_not_ you."

"So what do I look like then?"

"More like a…James or Lawrence. Not sure why," she added as an afterthought. "But anyway, what I was about to ask is what _do_ you like that you don't have time for?"

"You—Yugoslavia," he said quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose. _How did I let that slip? I'm supposed to be a federal agent. Agents don't let things slip. _His face not showing the majority of panic that was welling up within him, he casually glanced over at the now-laughing Abigail.

"You know that's no longer a country," she chuckled, not noticing the physical wave of relief passing through the older man's frame. "Even if it was, it would be hard to have time for Yugoslavia with any job." His eyes were still focused on the wall straight ahead and he was completely silent. Confused, Abigail couldn't help but wonder what had caused his sudden mood swing, and soon the conversation fell into a lull.

"I'm uh," Sadusky said after a few moments. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Ben."

"Yeah…it was mutual. Don't feel _too_ sorry."

_Don't worry—I'm not_. "What happened? I thought you both had resolved your issues."

"We just…argued too much for the relationship to handle. Honestly, we were better off as friends—our views differed too greatly sometimes than our stubbornness would allow," she sighed, a lone chuckle laced in at the end.

At that point, Sadusky could barely stand just sitting there. All of his instincts were pulling his frame in conflicting directions with the pain of a stretching rack, and he could feel the nervous sweat beginning to pool at the top of his sideburns. "I uh—"

"Hm?"

"I don't really like Yugoslavia…" By the end of his sentence, his words had almost faded into nothing, transferring into blood rushing to his face.

"…what is it then?"

"Um…um…" _Sure_, he thought to himself. _I can discuss covert operations with foreign diplomats, but I can't even talk to a woman_. "…er…you." The last word was uttered so softly that it was a miracle Abigail even heard it.

And the silence that followed was deafening.

"I—I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "I can leave, you can forget I ever said anything, and we can get on our merry ways, if you'd like." Halfway through his rambling proposal, he stood and began stepping toward the door.

"Hey." Before he even realized that she too had stood, Sadusky felt Abigail grip on his hand pull stop his progress. Their eyes met—his full of embarrassment, while hers held a blend of sympathy, pity, and…other emotions he could not place. "You shouldn't have to leave."

"Wh-why not?"

"You finally have time." In an instant, she closed the gap between them and placed her mouth gently on his, pulling away slowly. "See?"

A rare smile broke across his face, hesitantly at first, and then increasing in size and fortitude. "Mhm…" he breathed, nodding, then placing his work-worn hand at her back, pulling her closer and finally kissing her passionately. As it deepened, their bodies meshed closer and closer together, for suddenly no distance was short enough. When they finally broke apart, they could feel the awkward tension loosening its hold. "

"I…" Sadusky panted. "I should skip work more often."

XXX

**So…what do you think? I hope I got Sadusky's character all right; he's hard to do on a personal level I think, since he's always so professional in the movies. **

**Please review! **


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